


I'm telling you the truth.

by Artemisausten



Category: Crescent City Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Police, Bryce is a PI, Bryce is giving Hunt a hard time, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Humor, Hunt as a cop, Mentions of other characters - Freeform, Private Investigators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-15 15:34:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29686107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artemisausten/pseuds/Artemisausten
Summary: A modern AU where Hunt is a cop and Bryce is a PI who's undercover as a prostitute. When Bryce gets arrested, she decides to give the cop a hard time and refuses to tell him her name.For the prompt "Meeting the love of your life in a police station does not make for a good story to tell the grandchildren, but definitely an interesting one".__________________________Hunt can’t decide whether to smirk or to scowl. It’s the first time anyone’s had the balls to try using that name with him. “The FBI agent who just made that big drug bust on the Istros, the one who’s been all over the news for weeks now.”“That’s me,” Bryce says, giving Hunt a hard look as if that’s what she needs to sell this. “And I’d appreciate it if you would keep this just between us. I’m on a very important case right now, and I can’t waste any time in lock up.”The redhead’s act is so convincing, as if Hunt is just automatically going to go along with such an obvious lie, that Hunt can’t help the little twitch of his lips as they quirk up into a smirk. “Of course, Agent Fendyr. Just give me the number of your superior so I can call to confirm your identify, and we’ll have you out of here in no time.”
Relationships: Hunt Athalar/Bryce Quinlan
Comments: 5
Kudos: 35





	I'm telling you the truth.

Meeting the love of your life in a police station does _not_ make for a good story to tell the grandchildren.

Especially when one of them has arrested the other.

“Alright,” Hunt’s voice is gruff and unamused as he leans back in his chair, dark eyes taking in the redhead seated opposite him as she fiddles with the pairs of handcuffs keeping one hand attached to her chair—the chair that’s bolted to the floor. “Let’s have your name for the report.” He’s really not in the mood to be in the office at all, given that he was on his way out of town for a much-needed vacation. But then Isaiah called him at the last minute to say that Viktoria and Justinian had some kind of emergency and were out of the office and the 33rd precinct was desperately shorthanded, and Hunt had to come back.

Hunt Athalar had to come back to work to pick up some snarky redhead on prostitution charges and process her while she leans forward in her chair and purposely gives Hunt a stunning view of her cleavage. Her full lips are painted red and pulled into a smirk that makes concentrating more difficult than he’d like to admit. On top of that, she has the toned body of a dancer—a body he can certainly see the appeal in for any potential clients of hers.

Goddamn, it’s been too long since his breakup with Shahar if he’s getting distracted by this.

“It’s okay, you know,” Bryce tells him, practically singing with amusement as she notices the way Hunt’s eyes keeping dropping to her lips or her breasts. “You don’t have to go through all this—if you want to spend a little time together, all you have to do is ask.”

If Hunt asks, Bryce thinks, she’s going to report him to someone—to _a lot_ of someones—and then maybe break a bone or two of his, just for the hell of it. She’s only playing prostitute because she’s working a private investigation with Tharion and the case called for it. Being a hooker is not exactly her idea of a good time, even if it does give her just the tiniest bit of a thrill how many men are dumb enough to go for it. If nothing else, Bryce is coming away from this with a good ego stroking about how goddamn fabulous she looks, although she would’ve preferred it if it also didn’t come with a lot of dickbags pawing at her and making lewd suggestions.

What ever happened to meeting a nice guy, someone who wasn’t paranoid or jealous or possessive or some other brand of asshole, going out for a nice drink, and taking him back to her place to have sex on every surface of her apartment? Is that, Bryce wonders silently, _really_ too much to ask?

“You’re not my type,” Hunt lies, somehow managing the extra effort it takes to look away and pretend that he wouldn’t like anything more than to lay her over his desk and have his way with her.

Maybe Isaiah has a point. He really _does_ need to get out and start seeing people again.

Bryce doesn’t know whether to be disappointed or not. “Well, the offer always stands.”

“Your name.” Hunt doesn’t make eye contact as he asks this time, gaze firmly on the computer monitor as he refuses to take another look at the redhead and her perfect lips and breasts. “For the report.”

“Fine,” Bryce huffs, as if she’s upset that Hunt won’t play with her—which she is, just a tiny bit. “My name is Danika Fendyr.” Danika would shit a brick if she knew Bryce was using her name, but Bryce knows well enough that it won’t actually get put into the system, so she figures it’s safe.

Hunt starts typing the name in only to pause with his finger on the ‘I’ and look up at Bryce slowly, unimpressed by her choice of alias. “Danika Fendyr? Really?”

“That’s my name, Danika Fendyr.”

Hunt can’t decide whether to smirk or to scowl. It’s the first time anyone’s had the balls to try using that name with him. “The FBI agent who just made that big drug bust on the Istros, the one who’s been all over the news for weeks now.”

“That’s me,” Bryce says, giving Hunt a hard look as if _that’s_ what she needs to sell this. “And I’d appreciate it if you would keep this just between us. I’m on a very important case right now, and I can’t waste any time in lock up.”

The redhead’s act is so convincing, as if Hunt is just automatically going to go along with such an obvious lie, that Hunt can’t help the little twitch of his lips as they quirk up into a smirk. “Of course, Agent Fendyr. Just give me the number of your superior so I can call to confirm your identify, and we’ll have you out of here in no time.”

If Bryce was disappointed before, she’s certainly not disappointed now. Now, her mouth pulls into a small, genuine smile, eyes twinkling with amusement as she looks Hunt over with fresh eyes. This, she thinks, could be fun. “Fine, it’s not Danika Fendyr,” she admits with a sigh and a shake of her head, waiting until Hunt snorts and turns back to his computer like he’s ready to get back to the serious work of filling out a report. “It’s Fury Axtar.”

Hunt doesn’t even start typing when he hears her use that name. Some part of him, the part that he doesn’t like to admit is there and is superstitious and still vaguely terrified of his _last_ run in with the famous bounty hunter, can’t bring himself to look at the keys to even _think_ of typing her name. The last time Fury Axtar had been in town, half the criminals in the city had either been turned in for the bounty or left for dead somewhere, and an entire fucking building had been leveled.

Hunt’s brown eyes flash to the redhead with a look of suspicion and alarm, hands frozen on the keyboard. “Fury Axtar?”

Goddamn, if Bryce isn’t having the time of her life watching Hunt look at her like that. “One and the same.” Danika wouldn’t like Bryce using her name, but she imagines that Fury would just give her a hard look before a slow, deathly grin spreads over her face in a way that would make Bryce shudder just thinking about it if Fury weren’t on her side.

_Do your worst_ , Fury would say.

Now that thought does make Bryce shudder just a little.

Hunt stares at her for a long moment, debating whether she has a death wish or not to be using Axtar’s name like that. “Are you sure that’s the name you want to go with?”

Bryce almost wants to howl with laughter at the thought of it, Hunt’s expression serious, his eyebrows pulled together as he gazes at her. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I was just having a bit of fun with you.”

Hunt nearly sighs in relief at the admission. Thank god, he thinks, that he doesn’t have to put Fury’s name in the system. He doesn’t even want to think about the sort of hell that would raise. “Your _real_ name, please.”  
  


“Juniper Andromeda.” The sheer look of frustration on Hunt’s face is enough to make every moment of Bryce pretending to be a hooker worth it. As if anyone could mistake Bryce for the beautiful, elegant Juniper—the famous actress, the one who had recently graced every cover of every fashion magazine around for her latest role. Hunt scowls at Bryce, looking for all the world like what he wants is just to throttle her.

“ _Your. Real. Name._ ” Hunt growls through gritted teeth, losing the last little bit of his patience. She may be beautiful and a have body to drive Hunt to all kinds of filthy thoughts, but that won’t stop him from putting her in as a Jane Doe at any moment and letting her sit in lock up and think over her life choices. Whatever. As long as he doesn’t have to keep this up. “Now.”

He should’ve left for his vacation sooner, before Viktoria and Justinian could into whatever trouble they’d gotten into and he’d had to call off his plans for a nice stay in the woods—just Hunt and his cabin, and some peace and solitude.

Bryce, however, is far from intimidated. Oh, she thinks, she wouldn’t get very far in this line of work if she were. Bryce Quinlan is nearly unshakeable, as it happens, and if anyone is going to be the one to make Bryce quake in her boots, it sure as hell isn’t going to Hunt Athalar. “Alright,” Bryce says slowly, nodding as if she finally understands the seriousness of it. If he wants to know who she really is, she thinks, she’ll give it to him. She looks left and right, eyeing the room covertly as if to make sure that no one else is watching before she leans forward, propping her free arm against the edge of Hunt’s desk and intentionally propping her breasts up to spill out of her skimpy dress just a little bit more. She has to bite the inside of her mouth to keep from grinning in satisfaction when Hunt’s eyes are drawn downward, jaw tensing and color rising up his neck. “My name is Bryce Quinlan, and I’m the much beloved, illegitimate daughter of the head of Danaan Industries—you might know him better as the Autumn King.”

Hunt’s face is so contorted into a scowl as he glares at the redhead that the other officers in the room are concerned for him.

And for themselves—if they don’t stay out of his line of sight.

“Really?”

“It’s the truth,” Bryce says, eyes wide with mock innocence. Well, she thinks, mostly. ‘Much beloved’ is a bit of a stretch. “Hand to god.” She raises her cuffed hand for effect as she tries not to smirk at the way Hunt’s eye is starting to twitch in frustration.

“You know what,” Hunt starts, deciding that he’s done with this little game and turning back to his computer. “I’ll just put your name in as Jane Doe and you can think it over while you’re in lock up. Maybe you’ll be more cooperative then.”

“Okay, but I’m telling you the truth.” Bryce leans back in her seat, unable to stop the thoroughly amused look on her face as she watches Hunt begin typing. It doesn’t bother her that she’s getting put in lock up. It’s certainly not the first time that it’s happened on the job.

But hell—maybe she’ll use her phone call to break her silence with Ruhn and have _him_ come to pick her up.

Just, she thinks with a twisted grin, to see the look on Hunt’s face.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are always appreciated as I live for external validation AND cookies. And also, let me know if you've enjoyed this--I love the idea and am toying with writing more to it.  
> Find me on tumblr to leave me a note or some writing inspiration @artemisausten


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